


Red Sky in the Morning

by MangaFreak15



Category: Bleach, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: BAMF Kurosaki Ichigo, Gen, Kurosaki Isshin's A+ Parenting, Now with a plot, POV Multiple, ichigo is best flame boi, kisuke is the biggest troll and we all stan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24031879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MangaFreak15/pseuds/MangaFreak15
Summary: Ichigo's been handy with fire for as long as he can remember.Or:Kurosaki Ichigo was born with Sky Flames and everyone around him is confused as hell.
Relationships: Kurosaki Ichigo & Kuchiki Rukia, Kurosaki Ichigo & Urahara Kisuke
Comments: 121
Kudos: 1082





	1. Flames of a Protector

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea came to me and beat me over the head until I wrote it. The plot is... eh. Not really there? This was mostly for fun, so yeah, the plot is kinda loose. Enjoy anyways lol
> 
> Hope everyone is staying safe and healthy during this crisis! This week I finally go back to work, thank god.

Kurosaki Ichigo is born with a head of hair the color of fresh apricots and eyes that glow orange when the light hits them at just the right angle.

For a newborn, he is surprisingly quiet. He cries just as loud as any other baby when he wants something—milk, attention, Mom, a diaper change—but he is otherwise quiet when swaddled in his baby blankets or simply content to lay on his back and stare up at the gently spinning mobile above his crib.

The first time he is brought to Urahara Shouten by the happy parents, Kisuke sees the glow of potential power in the babe, something far beyond the realms of Shinigami, Quincies, and Hollows, something that should not have been born of an amalgamation of all three and yet still exists. He chooses not to mention it to the couple who are now cooing over their son as he fusses in his mother’s arms.

Masaki asks if he would like to hold Ichigo; Kisuke almost says no. Almost. He is responsible for ruining so many lives, and this one too is just another of his many machinations. But as the young mother holds him out and a single chubby hand reaches out and grabs Kisuke’s sleeve, he doesn’t have the heart to decline.

Holding Ichigo is… an interesting experience. The baby is unusually warm to the touch, and that same warmth seems to spread to Kisuke when he touches the infant’s skin. It’s calming. Kisuke can feel something within him settle at the contact, and he wonders.

When the family leaves, Kisuke returns to his lab to test something, and the strange warmth stays with him for days afterwards.

* * *

Ichigo is five the first time his flames physically manifest.

Masaki goes outside to check on her five-year old son after putting the twins down for a nap, and nearly has a heart attack when she catches him setting himself on fire.

“Ichigo!” She runs over to him and attempts to extinguish the flames burning merrily on his head and his hands.

He just stares at her in confusion and asks what she’s doing. Masaki pauses and actually looks at him. He isn’t screaming. He isn’t rolling around on the ground in pain. If anything, the flames seem to just be _there._ Cautiously she reaches out, expecting it to burn, and finds nothing more than a gentle caress of warmth.

“Ichigo, what is going on?” she asks haltingly. The tendrils of fire in her son’s hair leap and flicker like actual flames, but she can also feel them curl lovingly around her fingers. It’s the same warmth that she feels inside of her whenever she holds him close. She doesn’t understand: neither she nor Isshin possesses such powers, so how on Earth…?

Ichigo shrugs. “Don’t know. But they’re pretty, right? Do you like them?” he enquires bashfully, peering up at her. His eyes glow orange, the same color as his flames.

Now that she knows that her son isn’t in any immediate danger, she relaxes. “Yes, honey, they are very pretty,” she says, ruffling his hair. Ichigo giggles, and the flames fade away. “Now, why don’t I make something for lunch?”

Her son lights up at the mention of food, as he always does, and it’s a relief to know that the flames haven’t changed Ichigo in some way. Perhaps they are simply an intrinsic part of him, the way Quincy powers are a part of her or the way that Isshin is— _was—_ a Shinigami.

Later, when Ichigo and the twins are long asleep and she and Isshin are readying for bed themselves, that is when she brings it up to him, “Darling, do you know why Ichigo’s powers have manifested as flames?”

“Flames?” he repeats, looking about as confused as she feels about this whole subject. “Ichigo’s?”

“I saw them, and they didn’t burn him. Or me,” she adds. “That’s not a Shinigami power, is it?”

He shakes his head. “Not without a zanpakutou, no.”

“I see.”

“You’re positive that’s what you saw?”

“Yes, I’m sure. They can’t be anything else.”

Isshin looks contemplative. Silently they both agree to keep a closer eye on their son to observe his mysterious powers. Isshin will ask Kisuke about them when he gets the chance. 

Masaki pulls Ichigo to the side in the morning and tells him not to show off his new powers at school.

“Why not?” he asks around a mouthful of grilled fish.

“Listen, Ichigo. There are very bad people out there who will come after you if you use those flames in public. Your father and I, we don’t want you to be hurt. So please, Ichigo, don’t use your powers unless you’re at home or we say it’s okay,” Masaki pleads.

Seeing how serious his mom is about this, Ichigo can only nod and promise.

* * *

Kisuke doesn’t understand the strange phenomenon either, when Isshin asks about it. The scientist has seen much in his few centuries of life, but nothing like this. He asks if he can have a day to study them.

Isshin says yes, but Masaki…

Says no.

Kisuke respects her wishes and stays out of the way. Little Ichigo is only five after all; it may be more fruitful to wait until he’s older and possibly has more control over the mysterious flames.

* * *

Another point of contention is that despite Ichigo’s manifestation of unknown powers, his twin sisters show no signs of it at all. Karin can see spirits the same as her older brother while Yuzu can only see vague outlines, but neither of them feel an intrinsic ‘warmth’ inside of them like Ichigo can feel. Perhaps that’s why they cling to him every chance they get, to feel that warmth pass through his skin and into them, filling them up, relaxing them with the promise of being safeguarded.

Sometimes, when they’re in the safety of their own yard and they’re sure no one is looking, Ichigo will summon his flames and do little tricks with them, shaping them into small light balls that he can juggle, dancing pegasi for Yuzu, or fighting ninjas for Karin.

All the while either Masaki or Isshin will watch from the doorway, equal parts fascinated and bewildered.

But it fits. Young Ichigo with his bright orange hair and eyes that glow with power, his small fists wreathed in flames and hair alight with fire. He is their little protector, and if the flames will help him live up to that, they have no wish to take that away from him.

* * *

Then comes the rain and a devastating trap laid by a Hollow. Young Ichigo hadn’t yet learned to completely differentiate between ghosts and human beings. He is nine when he discovers for the first time that his flames can’t always protect the things closest to his heart.

Masaki dies on top of him, and Ichigo can do nothing but scream.

The funeral is a blur in his mind, dark and rainy and devoid of warmth. His flames don’t come back, so he feels cold and numb even when Isshin gathers him and the twins into a crushing hug, tears leaking down his face.

He has just lost the sun in his sky, and he doesn’t understand why it hurts far more than it should.

It's so cold.

* * *

A year later, Isshin takes to randomly surprise-attacking him out of nowhere, in hopes of seeing Ichigo move on from the hollow shell he’s become since Masaki passed on. Not once in that entire year has Ichigo used his flames. His hair remains short and orange, his eyes like fragile glass in his face, and Isshin can’t stand it. Masaki would scold him to hell and back for letting Ichigo remain in this sorry state.

Isshin can’t claim to be the best father, but he cares. He was raised in the Shiba clan, where exuberance knows no bounds, and that’s all he knows how to do, how to be. Even if his children become fed up with him, or call him useless, or outright dismiss him, any reaction is better than one on the verge of death without even dying.

So he attacks, again and again, sends his son flying out the window if he isn’t fast enough, punches him slowly enough to counter if he tries, and hopes desperately to rekindle the dead embers of Ichigo’s heart, hopes to see the flames of _life_ rise within him once more.

When Ichigo turns eleven, for the first time, he punches back.

And if there’s orange flames trailing behind his magical fire-enhanced fists, Isshin doesn’t care how stupid he looks when he openly cries.

* * *

Ichigo is fifteen the first time a Shinigami phases through his window and lands on his floor.

After going through the usual ‘you can see me?!’ introductions, he learns that her name is Rukia and she’s the Shinigami in charge of patrolling Karakura Town. In turn, she learns that his name is Ichigo and he’s been able to see ghosts since he was born.

The Hollow that breaks down the front wall interrupts any further conversation as they both hurry down the stairs to confront the threat.

Rukia leaps into action as soon as the Hollow is within her range, striking out with a blade as deadly as it is beautiful. Ichigo hurries to attend to his sisters and his father, who has been knocked out cold and slumped against the wall.

Karin is shivering with fright and Yuzu is faint with terror, but they both bravely tell him to help the person who is fighting the monster for them.

Ichigo turns around just in time to see the masked creature throw the petite Shinigami off its arm like she’s nothing more than a pest. It then turns to them, its eerie white mask shining in the moonlight, mouth split wide in a horrible grin. Ichigo can see Rukia in the distance, preparing to dash to their aid, to possibly even shield them with her own body, but he’s not about that. He is, first and foremost, a protector.

Fire blasts out of his hands and he shoots forward with all the force of a bullet, flames burning in his eyes and his hair, and crushes the Hollow’s mask with a single, flame-enhanced punch.

It rears back with a scream of rage and disintegrates into the wind.

When he lands, he sees Rukia staring at him open-mouthed, eyes as wide as dinner plates. “What… what did you just _do?”_ she breathes. “You’re a human, and—and you just—!”

Ichigo shoves his hands into his pockets as he dismisses his flames. “And?” he asks calmly. “My name means ‘first protector.’ Even though I’m human, if I have the power to protect the things in front of me, why shouldn’t I use it?”

Rukia sputters at the answer, but doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. Satisfied, Ichigo turns to walk back into his ruined home.

Later on, when the mess has been suitably cleaned up and memories have been conveniently altered to replace the Hollow attack with a truck attack, Rukia pays a visit to the one person in town who she feels may have answers for her.

“Why, hello, Kuchiki-san! What can I do for you today?” the annoying shopkeeper all but purrs, his usual white fan fluttering in front of his face.

Rukia looks him straight in the eyes (well, as close as she can get to that when she can’t even see his eyes under the brim of his stupid bucket hat) and demands, “Tell me everything you know about this Kurosaki Ichigo.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment before you go~


	2. Flames in Motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos, comments, and bookmarks! I wrote part of this on my phone at work while it was slow (going from not working to working 8 days in a row is really something though).

In the end, Rukia learns next to nothing about the strange human. Urahara himself only possesses long-distance observations and various theories based on the data from those observations, rather than the answers she’s looking for.

“Why?” she asks. Urahara Kisuke is an exiled Shinigami who has a few centuries of experience over her, and even he cannot explain the human’s mysterious non-zanpakutou-based fire powers. Yet, it would be a simple task to stroll up to the boy and tell him in no uncertain terms that the flames are interesting and Urahara would like to study them in detail. So why does he stay his hand?

Urahara gives her a grim little smile and tells her about the agreement he has with the human’s dead mother. So long as Ichigo himself doesn’t give permission, Urahara will continue to honor a deceased woman’s wish.

“Does he even know you exist?” Rukia points out.

Urahara hums noncommittally and doesn’t say a thing, which is more than enough of an answer for her.

“Fine then,” she snaps, getting to her feet. She’ll have to observe the boy for herself. Maybe she’ll even be able to badger some answers from the source itself.

She ends up spending the better part of her day following— _not_ stalking, there is a difference, thank you very much—the human around. She still dispatches any Hollows that come through, but her main focus is observation.

Curiously, Ichigo doesn’t once use his flames again, which means she gets no further information other than the fact that Ichigo seems to have a lot of friends. He’s incredibly popular for a human, people drifting in and out of his personal space constantly. Slinging arms over his shoulders, pats on the back, little touches on his arms by adoring females, sometimes literally having people actually throw themselves at him, Ichigo takes it all in stride.

Once school lets out and he returns home, Rukia finds out why.

Being in close proximity with him is… it’s warm. There’s something _magnetic_ about him that draws her in, something accepting, something that promises protection. And that small part of her inside that she’d thought she’d tucked away, the part that desperately craves praise and attention (from a brother who’s ever so distant with her), can’t help but want to be near him, to soak up that warmth for herself.

The beep of her denreishinki violently startles her from her thoughts.

“What’s that sound?” Ichigo asks, turning away from his homework.

“A Hollow.” Rukia quickly flips open the device to locate the red dot that just appeared. “It’s close—hey! What are you doing, fool?!” Ichigo is looking down at her denreishinki with a troubled frown.

“This location… I know it,” he mutters, staring at the screen. He pales. “Inoue! She’s in danger!”

Rukia snatches the phone back. "A friend of yours?"

"A classmate," Ichigo corrects, one foot already on the windowsill. "I used to go to a dojo with her best friend."

Rukia really shouldn't be involving a human in Shinigami affairs, but given that she's seen him take down a Hollow in one blow _without a zanpakutou,_ she feels justified in letting him tag along with her this time.

(Deep down she knows instinctively that she wouldn’t have been able to stop him.)

* * *

Orihime has always thought that Kurosaki Ichigo is special, ever since she first met him. She can’t explain it, but being near him reminds her of the days when her older brother was still alive, when he would take her out to play in the sun on his rare days off. Reminds her of the feeling of protection and acceptance and warm memories.

At school, in the hallways, during P.E, she notices how tactile people are with him, though she doesn't dare try it herself no matter how hard Tatsuki tries to coax her into it. Her bold best friend is forever slapping Kurosaki across the back or over the shoulder (even once or twice over the head despite being shorter than him). The orange-haired teen doesn’t ever seem bothered by people constantly invading his space. Yet, Orihime hangs back, too shy to approach him herself when there's literally hordes of people vying for his attention like moths to a flame.

Once or twice, when she does get close enough, the sunlight hits his eyes and for a split second she almost sees them glow orange. Like there is something otherworldly residing within him.

Yes, she thinks Kurosaki Ichigo is indeed special.

So when she's been knocked out of her own body, her and Tatsuki laying on the floor helpless as a monster with a white mask runs amok in her apartment, and Kurosaki suddenly shows up with a tiny waif of a girl in the tow, she doesn't think anything of it at first.

The part where he sets himself on fire is new though.

Then she does a double take because _Kurosaki_ is on _fire._ Which, okay, what? Is she hallucinating again? That bean jam cake she had earlier had tasted a little funny…

The mysterious black-haired girl pulls out a sword that she swings straight into the monster's face, chipping off part of its mask. It rears back with a howl and crashes through the wall and out into the street.

Orihime recognizes the face behind the mask in an instant and it makes her freeze. No, it can’t be. It _can’t._

**"Ori… hime…"** it growls.

She only has a second to stare in horror at the creature with her brother’s face and her brother's voice before an orange blur smashes into it and sends it flying.

The following beatdown is short-lived and painful, but as Orihime watches her brother fade away in peace, something in her heart settles at last. She can look at the shrine she has set up for him and pray for him, but it no longer hurts now that she knows he doesn’t linger over her with constant worry. The other girl—Rukia, as Kurosaki calls her—promises that her brother’s soul will be safe in Soul Society, where all souls go when they die. And for Orihime, that’s enough.

When she finally returns to her body, nobody notices as her blue flower petal hair clips glow the slightest bit yellow.

* * *

Objectively, Kisuke knows that he’ll meet Isshin’s son in person at some point, if only to check up on his progress and see if he has grown into himself enough that they can finally start taking measures to groom him into a weapon worthy of standing up to and defeating Aizen. Objectively, he knows that they are dragging a human child into a Shinigami war that he has no business being in or even knowing about, even if Kisuke and Isshin had plans for him before he was even born. Objectively, he knows that he is taking a huge risk on a human teenager somehow being able to do what Shinigami several _centuries_ older than him cannot do (and is that fucked up or what). Even if said child is, technically, only one-third human, he is still just fifteen years of age—a _baby_ in the eyes of any Shinigami.

He knows all of that, knows what he sees in the night when nobody thinks he's watching, and he still feels woefully underprepared when he actually meets the force of nature that is Kurosaki Ichigo.

The Kuchiki girl arriving in Karakura was meant to set off a chain of events to turn Ichigo into a Shinigami, but well, even Kisuke hadn't thought that Ichigo's mysterious flame powers were strong enough to wipe out minor Hollows in a single blow. He'd never been able to get close enough to observe them properly, and Isshin hadn't updated him about them either. The lack of knowledge chafes at him.

So when Rukia drags the boy to his shop after he helps her get rid of the Hollow that attacked his classmates, he jumps at the chance.

Ichigo eyes him up and down and promptly nicknames him 'Geta-boushi.' Fitting, if rather tame for a nickname. Kisuke's used to having far less savory terms being thrown at him, particularly during his Onmitsukidou days.

What does surprise him is when Ichigo mentions offhandedly that he sort of recognizes Kisuke. The orange-haired teenager scratches his head when Kisuke levels him with a bemused glance from behind his fan, a glance that screams _'explain.'_ Rukia gives him the same befuddled look, although it’s ten times less intimidating coming from her than the eccentric shopkeeper.

"I saw you at Mom's funeral. And I've, well, seen you around here and there," Ichigo clarifies. "I'm not really sure why, but I can feel your presence too. Not spiritually, I'm not too good at sensing stuff like that, but with my flames. Like something about you draws me to you, if that makes any sense."

Kisuke almost implodes from the two dozen hypotheses that suddenly cram themselves into his head at those words. His mind flashes back to that strange warmth left in him fifteen years ago when he held baby Ichigo for the first time. Could it be—? Had that been an _imprint?_

He itches to drag Ichigo into his laboratory and test things till he drops, but not now. Not yet.

"I see, that is good to know," he agrees, smiling. "I don't suppose I could trouble you to show me?"

"Oh sure. Here," Ichigo says, holding out a hand with the palm splayed upwards.

Kisuke watches in fascination as orange flames burst into existence above Ichigo’s hand, tightly contained into a miniature fireball. He can’t help himself; he pokes it. It doesn’t burn him, it just feels warm.

Well, this demonstration is as good as permission to him.

He can’t wait to get started. When a scientist’s mind is piqued, they don’t easily let things go.

Once Rukia and Ichigo leave the shop, Kisuke opens the door leading down into his training room. When he unsheathes his shikomizue, he can feel Benihime vibrate in his hand with bloodlust and… something else. Something that definitely wasn’t there before he made contact with Kurosaki Ichigo.

“Awaken, Benihime,” he intones softly, raising his zanpakutou up above his head. He focuses on the feeling of warmth inside him that Ichigo unknowingly gifted to him, and swings.

The energy that leaves his sword is still crimson, but now there’s an indigo tint to it. It slices one of the boulders clean in two, both halves falling backwards and throwing up a dust cloud that obscures his vision.

Then—

He blinks as the dust clears, and the boulder _is still standing._ It’s whole, unblemished, uncut. He blinks again, and the two halves sit on the ground, clearly split by a blade.

Kisuke looks at his zanpakutou and _smiles._

* * *

Ichigo goes home, climbs back through his open window, and pretends that he never left. It’s a bit difficult to concentrate on his homework though. There’s something pinging just on the edge of his senses, but he can’t figure out what it is. The flames inside him are excited, he knows that much.

Rukia has opted to resume patrolling the town, as that is her duty as a Shinigami. Ichigo doesn’t bother to go with her, that’s not his job. His job is to get this damn homework done, if only he could concentrate.

They haven’t completely fixed the wall downstairs yet, so the house feels a bit drafty. But that’s not what’s setting his senses off.

He carefully gets on to his bed, goes to the window, and releases a tiny fireball in the direction that feels like he’s being watched. Then he closes the window and draws the curtains so that nobody can see his room from the outside.

With Rukia on patrol, Kisuke tinkering in his shop, and Ichigo inside doing his homework, no one sees the charred form of a camera fly fall from the top of a wall nearby.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment before you go~


	3. Flames of Overture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What up fam, thanks for all the support! I'm really glad that people like this idea that I came up with on a whim. I rarely update anything this fast, but that's quarantine life for you. Enjoy!

Sado Yasutora knows that he has an unusually large body, thanks to his half-Mexican heritage. A big body with big fists to match. His skin is olive-dark, and it makes him stand out for all the wrong reasons. His abuelo had told him to find a reason to use his fists instead of for mindless violence, but until he met Kurosaki Ichigo, he hadn't had an answer to that.

When Ichigo fights off the bullies and looks at Yasutora without fear, his eyes flicker orange in the dying light. He laughs and christens Yasutora with his very own nickname: Chad. Granted, it is a mispronunciation of his family name, but no one's ever gotten close enough to him to call him anything else before. It makes him feel something inside: appreciated, maybe, but most importantly, accepted.

He holds out a hand to help Ichigo off the ground. The other boy is almost pale compared to Yasutora's dark skin, a light dusting of freckles visible on his exposed arm where one thug ripped his uniform sleeve. Ichigo's hand is just as warm as his personality. Yasutora feels… a certain _resonance_ with him, almost. A kinship forged through battle. The best kind.

And then after the whole cursed parakeet debacle blows over, he finds Ichigo waiting for him at the end of the street, one fist raised and ready to fist-bump him. No one ever wants to fist-bump him.

"Great job, Chad. I knew I could count on you," Ichigo says, his eyes crinkling lightly at the edges with a small smile.

The dark-skinned boy thinks of his abuelo and knows right then and there that this is what he had been talking about all those years ago.

So Yasutora, with his big body and big fists (and now, maybe a big heart) looks back at the teenager with bright hair and glowing eyes, and thinks, _I will follow this man for the rest of my life._

His abuelo's medallion warms beneath his fingers, sparking with a hint of green.

* * *

That night, Ichigo dreams of darkness and rain. He searches and searches for the sun and can't find it. He's nine again and running towards a little girl on the riverbank. His mom screams something behind him. And then—

He's ten again and thinks he's being punished for his mom's death the first time his dad flings him out the window. And then—

He's eleven again, and he's tired of getting hit.

The gaping maw of a Hollow opens wide before him, dark and dank. His flames curl around him lovingly, and he winds an arm back to blow it into oblivion.

But the rain blows his flames out and he stumbles and falls into the mud. He looks up, terrified. A white butterfly flies out of the Hollow's mouth, and it has too many sharp teeth to be normal.

His mom's face superimposes over the Hollow's mask, speaking in a voice that drips with contempt, _"Why did you do it, Ichigo? Why did you_ **_kill me?"_ **

Before he can stutter out an answer, the Hollow screeches and disappears, although the weird carnivorous butterfly remains, circling over his head. Bright sunlight and calming mist chase the darkness away. A hand reaches out, only to turn into sand—

Ichigo opens his eyes to a familiar ceiling, and can't remember why he's crying.

* * *

The next time Rukia drops by the Kurosaki household, she notices that the entire family is in a subdued mood. Ichigo is laying on his bed with an arm over his face. The twins are curled together on the sofa, watching TV, but it's apparent that their hearts aren't into it. The Kurosaki patriarch is still in the clinic, but his smile is brittle around the edges and his patients know it—the elderly women pat him on the arm and murmur to each other that it's that time of the year again.

That time of the year?

Rukia raps her knuckles on Ichigo's window, but he doesn't move. She huffs and lets herself in anyway.

"Oi, Ichigo, what's going on? What's with this pathetic pity party?" she asks, prodding at his arm with her sandal. He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like _"go away."_ She kicks him off the bed in response. "Hey, I asked you a question!" she says defensively when he glowers at her from the floor.

Ichigo just sighs and climbs back onto his bed. "Now's not a good time for us, okay? Tomorrow is the anniversary."

"Anniversary of what?" Let it be known that subtlety isn't Rukia's forte. But how is she supposed to know what's wrong if she doesn't ask?

The orange-haired teen flops back on his bed. "The anniversary of… our mom's death," he whispers, covering his face again.

…Oh. Rukia feels guilty for asking now. Urahara _had_ mentioned that the boy's mother was dead, but she hadn't put two and two together until now. For a moment, Kaien's face flashes through her mind. Ichigo does look awfully similar to her old lieutenant, but their elements are polar opposites. Kaien was renowned for his prowess with a water-based zanpakutou, while Ichigo clearly has some kind of power over fire. Some days she wonders if she'll look at Ichigo and find Kaien staring back.

She still feels his loss keenly to this day, even though it's been several decades since then. For Ichigo, who must have lost his mother much more recently, it may as well be an open wound, barely starting to scab over.

"Was it a Hollow?" she questions hesitantly.

Ichigo gives a barely-perceptible nod, and mumbles, “It’s my fault… all my fault…”

He's definitely not in the mood for conversation, so Rukia leaves it at that. She remembers all too well the feeling of crushing guilt (she’s the one who killed Kaien, all to save herself, and she's the one who had to drag his corpse back to the Shiba compound), so she knows that if she pushes any more, something will inevitably break.

Instead, she settles at the foot of his bed and gazes out the window. If her denreishinki goes off, she'll attend to it, but for now she thinks it's not a terrible idea to offer what little comfort she can to a boy whose inner warmth has touched the hearts of the people around him (including hers). And maybe, just maybe, one day she'll be able to introduce him to her brother and see if he can share that warmth with him too.

When she next communes with Sode no Shirayuki, a gentle rain falls over them, turning to tiny snowflakes in her hands.

* * *

June 17th dawns bright and early, a somber family getting ready to visit their loved one’s grave. Isshin tries to crack his usual jokes to lighten the mood, but they fall flat and his children know it. Still, he perseveres. Especially to see if he can get a rise out of his son. Isshin never wants to see Ichigo revert to that hollow shell of himself again, and if this is the way to do it, he will gladly take it and run.

He doesn’t mention that he can see the petite Shinigami following them, the one who’s been secretly visiting his house to speak to his son. He knows that Ichigo attracts all sorts with his strange flames, and even Shinigami aren’t immune to its effects (he would know).

So he bounces up the hill with his typical dramatic flair, aims flying kicks at Ichigo a few times—which, of course, backfires and sends _him_ rolling down the hill instead—and carefully doesn’t look in the Shinigami’s direction. He may not have his powers back yet, but he can still sense her and her reiatsu isn’t strong enough to be a problem.

What _is_ a problem is when Grand Fisher unexpectedly reappears before them, at Masaki’s grave no less. The Shinigami isn’t powerful enough to kill it, and it shows when she’s knocked out cold just scant minutes into the fight, in her attempt to rescue the twins from the Hollow’s clutches.

Isshin curses to himself that he hasn’t been able to regain his powers yet. If only he could—if only he didn’t have to watch his family being attacked _again,_ while he lies to the side helpless. If only!

Yuzu screams as Grand Fisher squeezes her in his grip. Karin chokes in agony as she’s crushed against the ground. And Ichigo…

…flies into a _rage._

Fire bursts around him, turning his hair vermillion. The shade of his eyes lighten from brown to amber with an orange tint, and his flames curl lovingly around his clenched fists, wrapping around his arms and over his shoulders, twining down the length of his body all the way down to his feet. He looks like a vengeful war god out for blood.

Isshin has never seen him like this. He doesn’t know whether to be relieved or to be afraid of the stranger staring back from his son’s face.

Grand Fisher lets out a mocking laugh and moves to toss Yuzu away. Ichigo propels himself forward with flames coming from both his hands and his feet and doesn’t waste a single moment slicing through the Hollow’s thick arms with his hands alone. Isshin’s pretty sure that human hands coated in flames aren’t supposed to be able to slash through things like butter, but, well, Ichigo never was a normal kid anyway. For a split second he does wonder if perhaps the remnants of White are showing up a bit too early, but dismisses the thought almost as soon as it’s formed. The only Hollow reiatsu that he can feel is from Grand Fisher.

The fiery teen immediately zooms in to grab his sisters and fly away as Grand Fisher thrashes around on the ground in pain.

“You’ll pay for this, human!” the Hollow howls.

Ichigo sets the twins down and comes back for Isshin and the unconscious Shinigami. Isshin musters just enough strength to grab the hem of his son’s shirt. Ichigo’s eyes are twin flames in his face when he looks down at him, but the former Shinigami captain feels nothing but fierce protectiveness wafting off his gangly body.

There are a thousand words he wants to say and none of them want to come out.

He settles for encouragement, “Go get ‘im, firecracker. Give that monster a real good punch for your old man.”

Ichigo doesn’t need to be told twice.

Watching Grand Fisher burn to ashes is a balm on all of their souls. Isshin breathes deeply, looks up at the clear sky, and sends up a smile, hoping that somewhere, Masaki is watching.

* * *

The clack of geta on dry ground outside their door instantly has every member in the warehouse on high alert. Their unexpected guest is someone who they have not seen in a very long time (for a certain short-tempered former lieutenant, she’d prefer it if he just stayed away permanently).

Shinji leaps down from a crate to greet him as he glides through the door, “Well, well, look who it is! Finally decided ta show up, have ya?” He grins toothily.

“Long time no see, Shinji-san,” Urahara replies, that damnable folding fan hiding his face from view. Shinji doesn’t need to see it down to know that the man is smiling. “I do so hate to be the bearer of bad news—”

Hiyori chucks a sandal at him, which he dodges expertly. He continues, “—but it appears that there will be a change of plans.”

“Wha’ for?” Shinji drawls. “Thought ya were workin’ on a way to defeat Aizen. Ain’t that right?”

“You’re absolutely correct!” Urahara responds with far too much cheer. The man is practically _skipping_ with joy, which is a disturbing image in itself. Hiyori looks just about ready to launch her other sandal at him. The others sit up and take notice of the shopkeeper’s unusually happy state. “In fact, I came here to test something that will certainly be a catalyst in bringing him down.”

The younger blonde shakes one of his sleeves and drops something into his hand.

Shinji squints at him. “…Is that the Hougyoku?” he says slowly. “Why would ya bring that _here?”_

Urahara hums, obviously pleased by his response. “Is it now? I thought it was just a rock.”

Shinji looks at him as if he’s gone mad and dearly wants to ask what the hell he’s talking about, because the object in his hand is _clearly_ the Hougyoku—

The orb bursts into indigo-colored flames and melts away, revealing a plain gray pebble sitting in the palm of his hand.

—or it clearly _isn’t._

There’s a moment of stunned silence where every single one of the Visoreds stare at the rock in the shopkeeper’s hand that had appeared to be the Hougyoku all of two seconds ago. Then pandemonium breaks out.

“What the fuck was that?!” Shinji exclaims, echoed loudly by a very wide-eyed Hiyori. Everyone automatically draws their weapons and points them at Urahara, unwilling to take the chance that he wasn’t Aizen when they all knew that illusions were the traitor’s specialty.

Urahara beams, utterly unperturbed by the swords being shoved in his face. He snaps his fan shut and confidently declares, “This, my friends, is one of the keys to our victory.”

“‘One of’?” the former Fifth Division captain repeats, arching an eyebrow at the eccentric shopkeeper.

“Indeed, just one of the keys. An important part of the game will begin quite soon,” Urahara says, tucking the pebble back into his sleeve. His smile is just a touch vindictive. It would have sent a lesser Shinigami screaming for the hills.

Shinji is anything but. “I almos’ feel sorry for the poor bastard who got into _yer_ crosshairs,” he snorts. He motions for the others to stand down, which is met with reluctant acquiescence.

Urahara laughs in his usual irritating I-know-something-that-you-don’t way and doesn’t say another word, just turns on his heel and strides out the door as sanguine as you please, leaving behind a room of people with far more questions than answers.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment before you go~


	4. Cloudy with a Chance of Lightning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I'm dead tired from work, but still wanted to get this up before I fall asleep on my keyboard. If there's mistakes I'll fix them in the morning. Enjoy!

Uryuu has mixed feelings about his classmate, Kurosaki Ichigo. He’s well aware that Kurosaki is human. Maybe not _completely_ human, if his weird personal gravity and mysterious flame powers have anything to do with it, but at the very least Uryuu is certain that he isn’t a Shinigami. However, the short, black-haired girl in a shihakusho that can sometimes be found keeping Kurosaki company is, without a doubt, one of them.

Uryuu _hates_ Shinigami.

Watching his grandfather be struck down by Hollows because the Shinigami couldn’t be arsed to help him in time is the root of his animosity towards them. He’d sooner shoot them in the head than give them any form of aid.

Which brings him back to his conflicting feelings for Kurosaki. On one hand, Kurosaki is a human who can destroy Hollows with the help of his non-Shinigami flame powers. On the other hand, he freely consorts with the damnable Shinigami patrolling this town and helps _her_ get rid of them.

He’s not blind—he’s caught faint wisps of Kurosaki’s weird powers coming from two of their other classmates recently, both Sado and Inoue. He doesn’t know what to make of it considering those two are the only ones who have shown it so far, and as far as he knows, neither of them have special powers.

Uryuu pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he looks down at his book. For now, he’ll have to observe carefully and make his own conclusions from there. Sometimes it helps to be a bit of a lone wolf.

* * *

Something isn’t right.

Sousuke frowns as he looks over the various screens in his lab, showing live video feeds from the camera flies that he had stationed in the World of the Living. Three of the screens are blank. Going back through the recordings, two of them had been found and destroyed by that damned Urahara Kisuke. The third, however… 

He rewinds the video back again and watches as a small fireball flies out of nowhere and decimates his device.

He knows that the Shinigami currently watching over Karakura Town doesn’t have a fire-based zanpakutou, nor is she observant enough to catch any of his cameras set around town. Urahara simply cut them in half with his shikomizue rather than waste energy on kidou spells. It doesn’t look like a _Shakkahou_ was used, either. How… intriguing. Was this a human’s doing, perhaps? It must be. After all, Urahara’s pet project lives there—

The door slides open behind him. Sousuke doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“Aizen-taichou,” Gin greets with his customary laidback tone. “Somethin’ wrong? Ya’ve been in here longer’n usual.”

“Perfect timing, Gin,” Sousuke says, turning his chairway partway to look at the other captain. “Take a look at this video clip and tell me what you see.”

He rewinds the recording again. Gin’s eyes slit open a fraction, a vague glimmer of interest showing in his face. “Heh… ya don’t see that happenin’ every day. Who were ya watchin’ with this one?” the Third Division captain asks, his eyes falling shut again.

“No one in particular. However, there is a family of note within the vicinity of the compromised device,” Sousuke remarks lightly. He rewinds the video clip back even further, pauses it, and zooms in to a half-hidden house in the background. He plays it. In the close-up version, both men can see a grainy image of one of the windows at the side of the house sliding open. The fireball is released from that window, although they cannot see who. The video manages to record the room’s occupant closing the window and drawing the curtains shut before the camera fly is destroyed.

Gin makes a sound that’s half-mirthful. “A special human. Very interestin’ indeed. Will ya set up another one ta watch ‘em?”

Sousuke pauses the video, runs a perfunctory glance over the other monitors to make sure the other ones are still functioning properly, and crosses his fingers beneath his chin in a classic thinking pose.

“…No,” he decides after a minute. “There are other ways to get information. I trust you will be discreet with this matter as usual?”

“Of course, Aizen-taichou.” Gin sweeps into a mocking bow, and retreats from the room.

Sousuke waits until his presence is gone to look at a specific screen, which catches Karakura’s Shinigami-on-duty (Kuchiki Rukia, still an unseated officer after all this time, how sad) in the presence of an orange-haired human. A smile curls at his lips. He might not be able to get the Hougyoku in Urahara’s possession while he is in the World of the Living, but it’s an entirely different story if the Hougyoku is _brought_ to him.

Perhaps it’s finally time to pay those fools holed up in Central 46 a visit.

* * *

"Kurosaki. A word, if you will."

Ichigo glances over his shoulder to find the top student of their class standing behind him. “Sure, one sec,” he says, stuffing the last of his books into his bag. “What’s up, Ishida?”

“Follow me.” The bespectacled teen nods towards the open door. Which, to Ichigo, means that the conversation they’re about to have is not something that should be mentioned in public. He falls in step behind Ishida anyway, curiosity overtaking suspicion.

Ishida leads him to a secluded part of the school grounds, away from any prying eyes and ears. At this point, Ichigo is half-expecting him to throw down a challenge. A challenge of what, he isn’t sure, because no matter which way you look at it, Ishida isn’t built for close combat, and Ichigo fights delinquents for _fun._

“Do you know what a Spirit Ribbon is?” Ishida asks abruptly, coming to a stop beneath a large tree. He turns to regard Ichigo seriously.

Ichigo just blinks at him. “A what now?”

“That’s a no, then.” Ishida waves his hand and suddenly there’s several floating white ribbons waving to and fro between them. Ichigo takes half a step back because he has no idea what those are and he’s not about to chance that it’s some sort of attack. Then he squints at them—there’s two odd ones that stand out. One is a bright red, easy to pick out amongst the white ones, and other is a deep orange.

He reaches for the orange one without thinking. “Is this… mine?” he questions uncertainly.

“Correct,” Ishida answers, pushing up his glasses. “And do you know who the red one belongs to?”

“Uh, no? What are these things, anyway?” If Ichigo has to guess, they are probably a way of visualizing people’s spiritual energy. Obviously the orange color of his ‘ribbon’ is tied to his flames. There’s a lot of white ribbons, so… they most likely belong to regular humans. But what could a red ribbon indicate?

“Red ribbons only belong to _Shinigami._ I know you know exactly who I’m talking about. Don’t try to lie, Kurosaki,” Ishida warns, eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “I’ve seen you in her company.”

Ichigo looks at the red ribbon curiously. If humans are white and Shinigami are red, what does that make him?

“So you know about Shinigami and Hollows then,” he says.

Ishida almost looks offended at that. “Of course I do, I’m a Quincy. Not that you’d know what that is, I assume,” he retorts snidely. He waves a hand again and all the Spirit Ribbons vanish.

Ichigo shrugs. “Feel free to enlighten me at any time.”

The bespectacled teen looks like he’s torn between indignation and wanting to crush Ichigo’s skull. Lots of thugs who had tried to pick on him for his hair color had had that same exact look before he had beaten them up and dumped them off at the nearest police station. He can’t exactly do that with Ishida, though. Isn’t his father a well-known doctor?

“…I see words have no effect on you,” Ishida finally replies, his tone not quite even. “Very well, then I challenge you to a duel.”

“No thanks,” Ichigo says immediately.

Ishida looks utterly flummoxed by Ichigo’s response. “What do you mean _no?_ Are you backing out?” he demands. Ichigo rolls his eyes.

“I’m not going to get into a fight with a classmate on school grounds. Are you stupid?” The orange-haired teen gives him a look of disbelief complete with an arched eyebrow. Ichigo’s never been one to pull his punches and he’s not about to start now.

Ishida flushes a dull shade of red at the rebuke. “I didn’t mean _here!”_ he protests. “I meant at the park!”

“Oh, why didn’t you say so then?”

The Quincy looks about three seconds away from attempting to throttle Ichigo, if his tightly clenched, white-knuckled fists are any indication. Yeah, he has that kind of effect on some people, who will either touch him or try to fight him and in the end, they all become friendly with him (well, friendli _er)._

Ichigo gestures vaguely in the direction that he thinks the school gates are in. “Lead the way, Ishida. Let me see what a… what was it you called yourself, a Quincy? Yeah, let me see what a _Quincy_ can do,” he says.

Ishida harrumphs and straightens up haughtily. “Don’t tell me what to do, Kurosaki,” he sniffs as he glides past Ichigo. “I’ll make you eat those words if that’s the last thing I do.”

* * *

It turns out to be less of a duel and more of a battle to keep Karakura Town standing, because if there’s one thing Ishida didn’t take into account, it’s how _many_ Hollows would be attracted to Kurosaki’s massive swell of reiatsu like sharks to fresh blood.

He lost sight of Kurosaki ages ago; the only thing his world has narrowed down to is to just keep shooting. Even if his fingers bleed and he tires, he will keep destroying Hollows for as long as he still lives, because he loves this town and he will not let it fall, by his pride as the last Quincy.

* * *

Rukia’s denreishinki is going absolutely bonkers and she has no clue what’s going on. The only thing that she can think of as she races along the rooftops and dispatches as many Hollows as she can is that she needs to find Ichigo, and _fast._

* * *

There’s something strange in the air. Karin’s sixth sense (which she finds herself referring to as her Ghost Sense more often than not, no thanks to Yuzu) is tingling madly and she finds that she can’t concentrate on her soccer game anymore.

She rushes off when she feels a Hollow coming closer, ignoring the cries of her friends to come back. She has to get away from them. They’re normal, average civilians, unlike her. She can’t put them in danger.

Then the Hollow appears, and it’s so huge that it blocks out the sun. Karin freezes in terror, staring up at the ugly white mask that spells out her doom. It sneers at her, and raises one meaty fist to end her where she stands.

Out of nowhere, Ichigo’s foreign-blooded friend charges from the trees and blocks the punch. Karin stumbles back in relief, but it’s short-lived when she realizes that he can’t see the enemy that is so clear to her eyes.

“To your left!” she shouts, watching in trepidation as her brother’s friend just barely misses having his head blown off. “In front of you! No, to the right!”

Voicing directions is about all she can do in this situation, but with Ichigo’s friend taking the Hollow’s attention away from her, she doesn’t have to worry as much about being attacked. She knows that the older boy will do everything in his power to protect her, so this is her way of helping him out.

However, the Hollow appears to grow bored of toying with a human that keeps fighting back, so it turns to her when Ichigo’s friend steps too far forward, leaving her completely open. Karin’s eyes widen and she scrambles backwards to put distance between herself and the freaky monster. She doesn’t have martial arts training or weird flame powers like her brother does—there’s no way she can defend herself!

The dark-skinned teenager realizes what the Hollow is after just a beat too late. Karin can see him lunge desperately at the Hollow’s arm as it winds back and swings at her, aiming to shatter every bone in her body. Karin stifles a scream and just pulls her arms up in front of her face, squeezing her eyes shut, hoping that her death will be swift.

_I’m sorry, Ichi-nii._

When several seconds pass with nothing happening, Karin tentatively lowers her arms to assess the situation.

This time her eyes widen for a completely different reason.

Ichigo’s friend is in front of her, and somehow he’s… not on _fire,_ but—is that lightning? _Green lightning?_ She rubs at her eyes furiously to make sure she isn’t dreaming, and nope, the green lightning’s still there.

What the hell?!

Karin should be used to seeing strange things happening around her (case in point: her own brother regularly setting himself on fire), but this blasts through weird and unusual straight into the territory of _not possible._

And yet, somehow, it is.

Ichigo’s friend is holding back the Hollow with one arm, an electric armor covering his forearm like a second skin and functioning as a shield at the same time. The ugly Hollow is struggling to free itself from the grip that the foreign-blooded boy has on its arm using his other hand. The parts of its skin that stray sparks fall on hiss and smoke as if being struck by actual lightning.

Karin doesn’t know what’s going on anymore.

The dark-skinned teenager looks up at his adversary through the curtain of curly hair that falls over his face, and rumbles in a low and threatening tone, “Your opponent is _me.”_

Karin belatedly realizes that Ichigo’s friend can apparently see the Hollow now. And since he can, he promptly utilizes his newfound power to turn the Hollow to dust. The strange green lightning crackles around him, tearing up streaks in the dirt as he releases it, and then after the threat has been eliminated, the energy dissipates with a loud pop. He shakes out his wrist as if it’s sore. A side effect, maybe?

He turns to regard her with his one visible eye, “Are you okay, Ichigo’s little sister?”

_Ugh._

“Call me Karin,” she says, making a face.

The young man nods solemnly. “I’m Sado Yasutora,” he introduces himself. Oh, he must be the one who Ichigo refers to as ‘Chad.’ “I’m glad that you’re safe.”

When the boy-who-looks-like-a-man offers her a hand up, she takes it and thinks that her brother’s friend is pretty cool, unknowingly mimicking his thoughts from a time when Ichigo had saved him from the bullies and had extended that first olive branch of friendship.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment before you go~


	5. No Forecast for Sunny Skies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot weather is my enemy. Bring back my nice 70 degree weather please.

While Ishida is destroying Hollows with single-minded determination and Sado is fending off a Hollow to protect Ichigo's little sister, Orihime and Tatsuki are staring down their own nightmare made real, in the form of a weird white tentacle monster that can control its opponents' bodies. It already got to Chizuru and their fellow classmates; Tatsuki is next.

It’s all Orihime can do not to get hit herself. The moment the seed hits her best friend on the arm, the short-haired girl freezes, and mouths, _Run._

“No! I won’t leave you behind!” the orange-haired girl protests. The monster’s white mask reminds her of a similar creature that had attacked them before, when she and Tatsuki had been at her apartment. Only Orihime remembers that incident, and Tatsuki somehow doesn’t. But just because she remembers doesn’t mean it’s a good excuse to leave her friends to the monster’s tender mercies.

Tatsuki’s mouth struggles to form the words she wants to say, but the possession firmly takes root in her body and the karate champion staggers forward without her usual grace. Her eyes are pleading for Orihime to save herself.

Orihime shakes—what is she supposed to do in this situation? She doesn’t want to run, but she is powerless to change anything. She doesn’t want to be powerless. She doesn’t want to be _useless._ She’s sure that Tatsuki is fighting the mind control with all her might. Somewhere out there, maybe Kurosaki and Rukia are fighting too. So she can’t just stand here and do nothing. She breathes deep and strikes a defiant pose, not sure what she _can_ do, but she refuses to go down without at least trying.

_Do you want power?_

A whisper brushes past her ear, echoing through her even though she hears no voice. Orihime looks around uneasily as her possessed classmates close in on her, trapping her against the wall. “Who’s there?” she says out loud.

_Do you want the power to protect your friends?_

“Yes! I’ll do anything for them!” she shouts. The tentacle monster is giving her a bemused look. Can’t it hear the words that ring so strongly in her soul?

“I don’t know what you think you’re trying to pull, but no one is around to save you,” the monster mocks arrogantly. “Even if they were, they stand no chance against my power.” It flicks one of its many tentacles and Tatsuki wobbles forward as a reluctant puppet, one arm raised, hand curled into a fist, ready to strike a devastating blow. Her eyes fill with tears even as she is forced to attack.

Orihime looks back at her best friend, determined and unafraid. Tatsuki has always stuck up for her, no matter what sorts of things people whispered about her behind her back _(she’s an orphan, can you believe it? her brother died because of her. she’s such an airhead. how can her relatives stand putting up with such a freak. have you seen the kind of trash she eats?)_ , so this time it’s her turn to stand up and fight.

_I’ll save you,_ she thinks furiously. And the words resonating deep within her become louder, ringing with newfound power and itching to crawl up out of her skin.

_So be it. Call our names and we will heed you. Repeat after me—_

She thrusts her hands out in front of her, and says, “Hinagiku, Baigon, Lily! Santen Kesshun: I reject!”

(In one world, the Shun Shun Rikka reveal themselves to her before she learns how to use them in battle and in healing. In that world, Inoue Orihime is only touched by Ichigo’s spiritual power, and nothing more.

In this world, something else answers her call as surely as the spirits in her hair clips do.)

Orihime gasps as something warm and yellow explodes out of her hands, surrounding the three spirits as they create a triangular shield that blocks and rebounds Tatsuki’s punch. The karate champion is flung back from the force, dropping into the dirt several meters away, unconscious.

The shield is bright yellow and shimmery, little tongues of flame dancing around the edges. The three spirits that make up the shield are looking at each other and Orihime in surprise. It’s clear that none of them were expecting this strange new development.

A glance at the tentacle monster reveals that it, too, is taken aback by the materialization of powers from a girl it clearly thought was a weak, defenseless human.

Three more spirits reveal themselves before an awkward silence can settle in: Ayame, Shun’ou, and Tsubaki. “Wow, Orihime! That was an impressive bit of work just now,” Shun’ou praises, admiring the yellow energy surrounding his companions. They drop the shield, now that there is no longer an incoming attack aimed at them.

Orihime blushes, a little embarrassed. “No, I didn’t do anything, it’s all thanks to you guys!” she babbles, waving her hands back and forth.

“Che, I could’ve done better,” Tsubaki sniffs, crossing his arms. He gestures at the white-masked creature as it tries to direct more of her possessed classmates towards her. “You gonna let me end that thing or what?”

“Tsubaki, be nice,” Shun’ou chides, hands on his hips. “This is her first time using us, you know!” Hinagiku and Lily both nod vigorously in assent.

“Whatever,” the dark-haired spirit scoffs. “The sooner she puts me to use, the sooner this battle ends. Isn’t that what you want, princess?”

Orihime startles at being addressed. “Oh! Y-yes, I’d like to end this quickly so that everyone stops being forced to do things that they don’t want to do.”

“That settles it,” Tsubaki states, turning towards the enemy. Shun’ou just gives a helpless little smile and shrug and bows out. “Now, call my name! This technique is called Koten Zanshun.”

The orange-haired girl nods and holds her hands out again, “Tsubaki! Koten Zanshun: I reject!”

The same sparkly yellow energy pours into the attack spirit, and his eyes widen briefly. “I feel… stronger?” He shakes his head and covers himself with his wings, zipping towards the creature so fast that it doesn’t even have time to scream before it is sliced in two. As he unfurls himself and circles back around, he marvels at the increase in both speed and destructive power. Perhaps this’ll be worth it after all.

Orihime heaves a sigh of relief as the monster withers away. Now her friends are safe again. She hurries to Tatsuki’s side, checking her best friend over.

“We can heal her. Just call our names with the technique Souten Kisshun,” Shun’ou says, hovering next to her face.

The girl nods and repeats the names, “Shun’ou, Ayame! Souten Kisshun: I reject!”

By now, the warm energy is becoming a familiar sight, and it seems to actively speed up the rejection process to Orihime’s delight. But she is still a bit confused as to how and why she suddenly developed these powers. So she asks.

“We’ve been your power for as long as you’ve had your hair clips,” Shun’ou says, smiling. “It just took a push to bring us out. I hope you’ll continue to rely on us in the future. Keep in mind that as you grow stronger, we do, too.”

Just then, Tatsuki stirs, and there’s no more conversation to be had as Orihime tends to her fallen friend.

* * *

Ichigo has long lost track of how many Hollows he’s punched his way through. Yet they just keep _coming._ There doesn’t seem to be any end in sight. Once again he curses Ishida’s use of Hollow bait—who the hell releases that sort of thing right in the middle of town next to someone who attracts Hollows just by existing and doesn’t expect everything to get fucked sideways in a few minutes? When this is over, he’s going to find that idiot and punch him in the face. With double the strength if he finds out that either of his sisters are injured in any way.

“Kurosaki!”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Ichigo dearly wants to make good on his thoughts and sock his classmate right on the nose, but clearly that won’t be happening any time soon because he sees Ishida surrounded by a group of Hollows. Damn his saving-people thing. Sometimes altruism sucks, but Ichigo’s never been one to back down when someone needs his help (even if they vehemently deny it).

A wave of orange flames clears out a third of the circle, drawing the Hollows’ attention to him, only for them to fall to a barrage of spirit arrows from the Quincy behind them.

This goes on until the last Hollow finally dies with a scream, felled by a fist wreathed in beautiful, deadly fire. Ichigo huffs out a breath and wipes the sweat from his brow.

Then he turns and unleashes a punch straight into Ishida’s solar plexus. It’s not his face, but it’ll do.

The dark-haired boy doubles over gasping in pain, smearing bloody fingerprints on his white uniform shirt. “What the hell, Kurosaki?” he wheezes.

“Don’t ‘what the hell’ me, you bastard! What were _you_ thinking unleashing something that potent here?” Ichigo snaps. “Innocent people could have been killed because of you!”

“It wasn’t supposed to attract that many,” Ishida says, gingerly straightening up. “There were only supposed to be a dozen at most.”

The orange-haired boy gives him a disdainful look. “Are you telling me that you don’t know that I’m a giant beacon for Hollows? And so is my family.”

“Like I said, it was only supposed to—”

A loud tearing sound rips through the air and cuts their argument short. Both boys look up in horror as a huge gray seam splits the sky in twain, long white fingers with sharp nails reaching out from the dark space and grabbing on to the torn fabric of space. An extremely tall and grotesque figure emerges, all dark rippling robes and bone-white appendages. Its eyes are twin pits of emptiness, its nose long and sharp as a bird’s beak.

Ichigo’s first thought is, _What the hell is that?!_

His second thought is, _How are we supposed to fight that thing?_

Third, _How am_ I _supposed to fight that thing?_

Ishida has already drawn up another bow, heedless of the way his blood drips down his injured fingers, but his arrows are weak and this new nightmare swats them away like flies.

Ichigo’s already wasted so much of his flames fighting all the lesser Hollows, but he doesn’t have a chance to rest and let them naturally recover.

Either way, without a proper plan and some grade-A backup, they are absolutely screwed. Ichigo thinks furiously as the enormous Hollow slowly slips out of the void and into their world.

He closes his eyes and digs down deep inside of him, to the part where he can feel his flames the strongest, right down into the core of him and everything that makes him Kurosaki Ichigo. If he has to pull out all the stops to keep this thing from wrecking his home, he’ll do it, even if it hurts him in the process.

His flames respond to his call, burning higher and brighter than ever before. He takes a breath, cocooning himself into a maelstrom of his own power. Either this will work or it won’t. And by the end of it, either he’ll live or he’ll die.

His eyes fly open when he hears Rukia shout in the distance, _“Ichigo!”_

And then—

Pain.

He’s laying on his back for some reason. His head hurts. His chest hurts. Everything hurts. What… just happened?

He coughs once, chokes up a damning mouthful of blood, and can’t move.

Was he… had he been attacked?

There’s darkness encroaching in his vision. He maybe hears something that vaguely sounds like his name. He doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s in pain.

And then that fades away too, like the last wisps of a dream.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not sorry lol. Please leave a comment before you go~


	6. White Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I meant to be taking a break from writing after churning out almost 40k words in the past month, but this chapter decided to write itself ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Not gonna lie, all the responses to the cliffhanger last chapter were hilarious hahaha.

Ichigo opens his eyes to gentle sunlight on his face. The sky stretches far and wide over his head, clear except for a few small clouds drifting about aimlessly. In the distance, there is a patch of storm clouds, dark and heavy with drizzling rain, with the occasional flash of lightning. A light mist seeps through, brushing past his cheeks in playful whispers of vapor. He sits up, puzzled.

He’s laying on a garden plateau. All around him there are buildings haphazardly built, some standing straight up, others sideways, still others tilt diagonally like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, creating an eclectic modern jungle around the platform.

“Where am I?” he voices aloud, looking around. Hadn’t he just been in a battle? This place looks nothing like he’s ever seen before. He doesn’t see any of the others here either, nor is there any sight of the giant monster that had come out of the void in front of him and Ishida.

The quiet noise of cloth fluttering in the wind makes him look up and see a strange old man in a ragged coat alight on a rock at the edge of the plateau. His hair is long and dark and wavy, but it suits him. There’s a visor over his eyes, but it’s light enough that Ichigo can see through it.

The stranger gestures for him to turn and look behind him. When Ichigo glances back, he does a double-take at the sight of someone who could be his twin, only he’s stark white from head to toe, from the tips of his spiky hair down to his sandals. There’s an orange flame burning on his forehead, but it’s small, soft, and gentle. His could-be-a-twin is also asleep, curled up in the grass with his head tucked into one elbow, almost like a cat basking in the warm sunlight.

Ichigo looks back at the strange man and asks, “Who are you? And where am I?”

“This is your soulscape,” the man replies. “We are inside of your mind.”

“My mind?” Ichigo looks around, re-evaluating the world around him. He waves a hand at the mishmash of buildings in the background. “Is my mind always that… that… tangled up?” He doesn’t know how else to describe it. Maybe he can consider it modern art?

The old man lets out a throaty chuckle. “Nowadays, it is. That is a representation of all the knowledge you have acquired thus far, in addition to your thoughts, your conclusions, your hopes and dreams in this life.”

Okay, that makes sense. “You still haven’t told me who you are,” Ichigo says, frowning.

The strange old man shakes his head. “You are not a Shinigami. You cannot hear my name yet,” he answers, mysteriously vague.

“Why do I have to be a Shinigami to know your name?” the teenager scowls. “Can’t you just tell me so that I don’t have to keep referring to you as ‘Ossan’ all the time?”

“I cannot tell you, because you cannot hear me.”

Ichigo throws his hands up, frustrated. “What does that even _mean?_ I can hear you just fine!”

‘Ossan’ doesn’t say another word. The orange-haired boy sighs harshly. “Fine, I’ll drop it for now. Will you at least tell me what’s the deal with him?” he questions, pointing to his could-be-a-twin over his shoulder.

Before the old man can answer, a pale hand reaches out and drags Ichigo down on the ground next to the white boy, whose eyes are slanted open and hazy. A drowsy voice rumbles out of his throat, “Will ya _shut up_ already, I’m trying to sleep here—” He blinks rapidly when he registers Ichigo in front of him, and an excited grin spreads across his face. “Oh, what’s this? The King is finally here, is he?”

_King?_

“What?” Ichigo says blankly.

His could-be-a-twin cackles and clings tightly on to him like an octopus. “Why not enjoy a nice nap while you’re here, King? The sun’s out today, for once,” he purrs, smooshing one cheek against Ichigo’s collarbone. Ichigo twitches, feeling a burst of warmth from the pale boy. Feels similar to his own flames, but… not exactly. They’re tinged with something that he can’t explain, just like he can’t explain this place or why there are two different personality fragments here acting so familiarly with him. But his could-be-a-twin is right, the sun is out and it’s warm and pleasant and he can already feel himself relaxing, a nap sounds great right now…

He attempts to surge up when he remembers the giant monster in the real world. “Wait! I don’t have time to nap, I have to go back and fight!” he yells, trying to scramble to his feet. He grunts when his could-be-a-twin wraps both arms around him and brings him back down to the ground. The pale boy croons low into his ear, and Ichigo finds himself involuntarily calming down.

“A battle, hm? Ya should’ve just said so in the first place. Don’t worry, King, I’ll take care of it this time. You should just rest,” the white-haired boy suggests, idly stroking Ichigo’s hair.

“Who… are you?” Ichigo struggles to speak through the overwhelming urge to nod off.

His could-be-a-twin chortles, the flame on his forehead growing bigger and brighter with each passing second. “Me? Aren’t you silly, King—I’m _you.”_

Ichigo blinks slowly, his tongue feeling thick as lead in his mouth. “You’re… me? No, you’re not. Who _are_ you…?” he slurs.

The pale boy pauses, looking at him contemplatively. “I suppose you can call me ‘Hakuten’ for now,” he says slyly. “Now sleep.”

Then Ichigo no longer has enough strength to resist as the tug of sleep firmly pulls him under.

* * *

Kisuke has a bad feeling.

The last time he felt like this, several captains and lieutenants had been Hollowfied, he’d nearly been stripped of his powers, and all of them had fled to the Living World to escape persecution. So of course it stands to reason that feeling it again makes him uneasy and restless.

He looks down at the two teenagers kneeling on his floor. Sado Yasutora and Inoue Orihime, two of Ichigo’s classmates. Not only had their bodies become steeped in Ichigo’s potent reiatsu, they also got a dose of his flame powers, same as Kisuke. But their flames are different. Kisuke’s is indigo and full of deception (and isn’t it ironic that he now has the same power as Aizen’s beloved Kyouka Suigetsu?), but from what he’s been able to glean from their stories, Sado’s is green and shaped like lightning, while Inoue’s is yellow and bright as the sun.

The bad feeling persists. Rather than give them the whole spiel on Shinigami and Hollows and what it means for them now that they have the power to fight the monsters, Kisuke turns on his heel and tells them to follow him. 

He almost hesitates over the threshold when he feels the reiatsu of a Menos Grande Hollow in the distance. How had _that_ happened? No matter, he needs to get to the site quickly. And if this can serve as a lesson for the two human teenagers at the same time, that’s his prerogative.

* * *

_“Ichigo!”_

Rukia screams as she watches the Menos Grande unleash a devastating kick upon the orange-haired human as he just _stands_ there, his flames writhing around him. The impact sends a shockwave through the air. Ichigo goes flying, crashing through several trees as well as three different streetlamps, and finally slides to a halt just before the edge of the next playground over. His flames sputter and die out, leaving him defenseless and gasping for breath as the blood fills his throat.

She is by his side within a minute. “Ichigo!” she calls, dropping to her knees. She can see the light fading from his eyes and panics. It’s not his time to die, she _knows_ it’s not, but she doesn’t think that the handful of healing spells she knows will be enough to keep him alive. Her head whips around when she hears the Menos Grande scream. It’s close, too close, oh Soul King’s mercy, it’s _too close—_

“Nake, Benihime!”

A red shield materializes in front of them just in time to block the red Cero that fires from its mouth. Rukia stares, paralyzed with relief, as Urahara slides into view, his zanpakutou released and pointing at the threat. For once, he isn’t smiling; he looks grim, the shadows formed by the brim of his bucket hat all the more ominous on his furious face.

Rukia hears a loud gasp and the horrified cry of “Kurosaki-kun!” as Inoue rushes up to them. She presses her fingers to her hairclips, shouting, “Shun’ou, Ayame! Souten Kisshun: I reject!”

The tiny Shinigami raises her brows when two spirits fly out and form a dome over the near-dead human, shimmering with yellow flames that feel bright and warm. That’s new, when did the girl develop her powers? It must have been very recent if she didn’t know about it. She watches in fascination as all of Ichigo’s wounds vanish, leaving no trace that he had been injured in the first place.

The Menos Grande moans, a sound that makes the hairs on the back of Rukia’s neck rise, and its jaw hangs open as it prepares to fire another Cero at them in hopes of killing them this time.

Urahara prepares to stop it again, the incantation of his technique already on his lips, when Ichigo abruptly sits up. Only it’s not Ichigo in control. A pair of startling black and gold eyes gaze out of the human’s face, a bloodthirsty grin splitting his face wide. Rukia feels herself go cold when a bone-white mask forms over his face, complete with lipless serrated teeth and stripes of bright crimson arcing down one side. A radiant orange flame blazes to life on his forehead, although that’s the only part that catches on fire, making it even more obvious that Ichigo isn’t at the helm.

There’s a fucking _Hollow_ in Ichigo’s body and Rukia doesn’t know how that happened. But she unleashes her zanpakutou and draws the edge against the line of his throat, trembling. “Get out of Ichigo’s body, Hollow,” she snarls. “I don’t know how you got in there, but it doesn’t belong to you!”

Inoue is staring at her classmate in terror, mouthing quietly, “K-K-Kurosaki… kun?”

Urahara turns sharply, still keeping the shield up. There’s a split second of surprise, followed by resignation. Which means the shopkeeper knows something about why a Hollow is supposedly inhabiting a human’s body. She’ll shake some answers out of him later, once this whole debacle is over.

The Hollow laughs. “Now who do you think you’re pointing that thing at?” he mocks, casually pushing her blade away from his throat. “This is still King’s body, you know.” Rukia tightens her grip on her zanpakutou in rage. That bastard is using the human’s body as a shield! The Hollow looks at Urahara, whose attention is split between the Menos Grande and the Hollow in Ichigo’s body. He says, “Oi, you, Geta-boushi! Ya better get out of the way. I ain’t planning to actually take over King’s body, I’m just letting him sleep while I get rid of that thing for him.” He points at the giant Hollow with one hand, a large cleaving knife wreathed in orange flames appearing in the other.

Urahara eyes the knife speculatively, but steps to the side. Rukia gapes at him. “What are you doing?!” she demands as the Hollow cackles and zooms forward.

The blonde doesn’t answer her, all his attention laser-focused on the orange blur that carves a groove into the earth and unleashes a crescent-shaped blade of flames at the Menos Grande, bisecting it horizontally right through the hole in its chest. For good measure, a second swing slices its ugly mask in half, a third diagonal slices across its torso, a fourth, then the Hollow’s arm is a blur as he happily shreds the gigantic Hollow to pieces.

Rukia is aghast. The Hollow is strong. There’s no way they can just _leave_ it in Ichigo’s body.

She takes a step forward, but Urahara throws out an arm to stop her. “Why?” she growls.

“Wait,” the shopkeeper says. “I will do something about it if he does not truly intend to return the body to its rightful owner, but for now, we wait.”

Rukia wants to gnash her teeth in a way that’s very unbecoming of a lady (especially a noble), but reluctantly complies.

When the Hollow is done finishing off his target, he comes back to them. “Well, that was fun!” he sings, making his sword vanish with a flick of his wrist. He pauses, head cocked to the side thoughtfully. “King’s still asleep, so ya’ll have to catch his body. So long!” He taunts them with a mock salute, then the mask shatters, the flame on his forehead disappears, and Ichigo drops like a stone.

Urahara catches him easily, setting him carefully down on the ground. He checks the body over, and finds nothing out of the ordinary. Ichigo’s eyes are closed, his breathing deep and slow and steady. For all intents and purposes, he actually looks to be asleep, just as the Hollow had said.

Rukia trades worried glances with Inoue, and can only think, _What now?_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hakuten (白天): meaning 'white sky/heaven'. Fitting, no? And honestly I wanted something more original than just Shiro, lol.
> 
> Please leave a comment before you go~


	7. Weathering the Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the amazing response to the last chapter! I'm glad people like how Hakuten turned out. This chapter is dialogue-heavy, no action (but there is PLOT, o shit whaaat :O ) and deals with the aftermath before things get real. Hope y'all are ready for the shitstorm that's gonna go down in SS when Ichigo and his flame-happy friends crash the party ohohoho ;)

There are currently four human teenagers, three Shinigami, and two human (?) kids inside the shop, all of them except for one crammed together at Urahara’s one low table. Ichigo is still resting in one of the spare rooms down the hallway, while the rest of them are discussing the events that occurred earlier in the day and why they happened. Rukia is still stewing over why there is a Hollow inhabiting a human’s body.

Yasutora, who had gone to aid Ishida while Urahara took Inoue with him to the main battleground, hadn’t seen this supposed Hollow possession, but he doesn’t think that it sounds good either. He had fought and managed to dispose of the one that had been threatening Ichigo’s little sister, but the thing that had towered over Karakura Town was something else entirely. Even Yasutora isn’t sure that he could have defeated that monstrosity.

Rukia is the first to demand answers from the mysterious shopkeeper. She pins him with a steely-eyed gaze as she smacks a tiny hand down on the table, and utters a single word, _“Explain.”_

Yasutora chances a glance at Inoue, who is nervously twisting her fingers and keeps glancing in the direction of the spare room as if she wants to sit by Ichigo’s side until he wakes up. She catches his eye and her fidgeting becomes worse. “Sado-kun, what do you think about all this?” she whispers to him. “It’s… a lot to take in, isn’t it?”

He nods solemnly, because it really is. The idea that ghosts actually exist, that _Shinigami_ actually exist, is surreal to the two of them when not so long ago, neither of them could see such things. It’s an eye-opener in more ways than one. Now Yasutora has the power of green lightning at his disposal (and what a strange ability that is, isn’t lightning supposed to be yellow or white or something more natural?) while Inoue seems to have some sort of… sparkly yellow energy (that’s how she describes it, anyway) and literal _fairies_ that she can use to attack, defend, or heal. The world keeps getting stranger by the day.

Instead of offering up an explanation for the recent series of events that came to pass, Urahara looks straight at Ishida, lips thinning into a neutral line. “Ishida-san, may I presume that you know something about the sudden increase of Hollows in the area?” he carefully asks, not sounding accusatory, but acknowledging that there must be information that needs to be disclosed before he can share his own findings. Yasutora peers at his classmate out of the corner of his eye, and sees the line of tension in his shoulders.

In a weak attempt at deflection, Ishida pushes his glasses up and mutters, “I think you already know the answer to that, Shinigami.” The wariness in his eyes is there, along with a tinge of age-old hatred when he spits the word ‘Shinigami’ out like it’s a curse.

“Hey, glasses, don’t talk to Urahara-san like that!” the hot-tempered, red-haired kid yells, jumping up from his seat.

The burly man with a handlebar moustache and dark hair in cornrows grabs him and forcefully pushes him back down, uttering a command to be silent so that Urahara can say his piece. Yasutora leans forward slightly, ready to hear the blonde’s response. Inoue stops fidgeting and Rukia sits back with her arms crossed, all of them awaiting answers from the only one who can give them something to chew on.

Urahara hums and taps the tip of his fan against his lips. “Well, I suppose I do. You are a Quincy, yes? To attract so many Hollows in such a narrow window of time, you must have used something to bait them, perhaps an additional item in conjunction with Kurosaki-san’s reiatsu presence? He alone is a common target for any lesser Hollow that comes through this town,” he says, laying out the bare bones of his thought process. He does a little hand wave in Ishida’s directions, specifically towards the boy’s bandaged fingers. “Given how many arrows you fired, you must not have been expecting that great of an outcome from the bait that you used. Did you knowingly use something to bring Hollows here in order to see if you could send yourself or Kurosaki-san to the hospital, or worse?”

Yasutora sees Ishida’s eyes widen comically. It’s the first he’s ever seen the calm, collected student lose his composure. “What?! No!” he protests vehemently. “It was supposed to be a simple duel! Only a dozen of them, or less! I—” Here, he hesitates to say anything more, slumping the slightest bit in shame. “I just wasn’t… prepared _enough.”_

“Do not be so hard on yourself, young Uryuu-dono,” Tessai rumbles, pushing a steaming cup of tea towards the Quincy. “You are youthful yet, and children have far more room to err than adults.”

Inoue perks up a little at that, even though the man’s words aren’t directed towards her. A ghost of a smile passes over the face of Urahara’s only female employee, and the red-haired kid harrumphs and looks away pretending that he isn’t embarrassed by Tessai’s words. Yasutora hasn’t considered himself a child in a long time, especially given his size and his generally-perceived age, but it still strikes a chord within him to _hear_ a statement like that coming from someone who, by all means, seems to view them as nothing more than the kids that they still are. Even Ishida looks shaken, having expected a severe reprimand for his reckless action that put the town and its residents in danger. He takes a sip of tea to settle his nerves.

“Just come out and say it, why don’t you. It’s my fault that Kurosaki almost died and you two—” Yasutora frowns when Ishida regards him and Inoue apologetically, “—were put in harm’s way.” He looks and sounds appropriately miserable. Yasutora reaches out and gives him a good old slap to the back to get him out of his funk (gently, of course).

“No harm done,” he says simply as Ishida sputters at him over his cup of tea.

“Wha—but you two could have _died_ if you hadn’t awoken your powers!” he objects.

Inoue smiles at him serenely. “But we didn’t. And it’s because we faced those monsters that we became stronger,” she chirps. “Thanks to you, we were able to protect the people around us. So thank you, Ishida-kun.” Yasutora nods in assent. Ishida gapes at them, opening and closing his mouth several times as he tries to find the words to say. The others watch on with small smiles on their faces, letting the human teenagers sort out their feelings between themselves.

In the end, Ishida doesn’t, so he just looks down at his tea. Yasutora counts that as a win, and so does Inoue when she holds up a hand to give him a high-five.

Urahara cheerfully breaks the silence, “Well, now that that’s out of the way—”

He’s interrupted when the door to the room slides open and Ichigo stumbles in, bleary-eyed and extremely confused. He stops at the sight of everyone turning around to face him in varying stages of delight. “Uh…” he rubs at his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Ichigo! You’re okay? You don’t feel weird or anything, do you?” Rukia frets, leaping out of her seat and zooming towards him so fast that she may as well have teleported.

“Whoa, easy there, Rukia! Of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?” Ichigo asks, bemused.

“What’s the last thing you can remember?” she asks very seriously.

Ichigo scratches the back of his head and says, “I think there was a big Hollow somewhere? I’m guessing someone took care of it if we’re all here and not out there still fighting it.”

Urahara fights down a guffaw that makes Yasutora’s friend look at him suspiciously. “That’s one way of putting it,” he chortles.

Yasutora arches an eyebrow when Rukia whips a notebook from out of nowhere, along with a set of colorful pencils that has his orange-haired classmate groaning into his hands. She scribbles on several pages with single-minded determination, then proudly holds up her notebook as she goes into an explanation of what happened. With pictures to supplement her story. They are very… avant-garde.

She shows them to everyone else, too. While Tessai says nothing and Urahara looks away, snickering quietly behind his fan, the red-haired kid has no such qualms and bursts out into loud peals of laughter, falling over and rolling around on the floor banging his fists on the tatami mats. His dark-haired partner doesn’t laugh, but she does look amused by the drawings. Ishida looks aghast at the horrible art quality, voicing his displeasure with a hissed “what is _that_ supposed to be?” Inoue is the only one who looks delighted by Rukia’s artistic tastes, as she claps her hands and tells the pouting Shinigami that her drawings look wonderful and very nice. Rukia beams back at her and glares at the rest of them.

Yasutora valiantly pretends that he doesn’t think the drawings are trash by hiding his eyes behind his curly hair. It’s a good thing he hasn’t gotten it trimmed recently.

Rukia clears her throat and finishes telling Ichigo what happened with the Menos Grande and how he nearly died, if not for Inoue's timely intervention with her newly-developed powers. She hesitates to answer when he asks who got rid of the giant Hollow, "W-well, you see… _you_ did."

That's when Urahara steps in, to Rukia's relief. Yasutora can understand her reluctance. Who wants to tell their friend that they had been possessed by a soulless monster?

The shopkeeper rises from his seat with such grace that Ichigo looks taken aback. “Now that is a discussion that we will be having in private,” Urahara says gamely, snapping his fan shut and pointing it towards the open doorway that Ichigo had come through. “Please come with me, Kurosaki-san.”

Ichigo’s brows knit together in concern even as he obeys. “Is it really that bad?” he queries at the same time that Rukia shouts, “Oi, Urahara, you promised to explain about—mmph!” The young dark-haired employee claps a hand over Rukia’s mouth before she can blurt something out about the Hollow in Ichigo’s body.

“Not at all, if anything, this makes it easier for me to explain,” Urahara smoothly replies, waving Ichigo through the doors. He slides the door shut and their muffled voices and footsteps fade as they move away from the room. The young girl removes her hand from Rukia’s mouth when she’s sure that they are gone. The Shinigami whirls on her with an angry look, but Tessai puts a large hand on her head and pats it.

“You’ll get your answers in due time, Rukia-dono. Let Tenchou clarify things for Ichigo-dono first,” Tessai says. He produces a plate of cookies from out of nowhere and drops it on the table. “Snacks, anyone? They might be a while.”

Yasutora’s first bite of Tessai’s homemade treats tastes glorious.

* * *

“So let me get this straight,” Ichigo begins, eyeballing the smiling shopkeeper with a healthy dose of skepticism, “there’s a Hollowfied personality fragment living in my soulscape who took over my body when I passed out and killed the Hollow for me.”

“Personality fragment may not be the right term here, but yes, that is what happened,” Urahara confirms.

Ichigo scrubs a hand through his orange locks, looking pensive. “Well, I guess that proves I wasn’t dreaming,” he mutters under his breath. Not quietly enough though, because Urahara definitely hears him, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Pardon?”

“Uh, well… I thought I was dreaming ‘cause I remember being in this bizarre place where a white guy and an old man talked to me and the white guy made me fall asleep,” Ichigo clarifies.

Urahara absently taps the back of his fan against his chin. “That must have been your soulscape. How interesting, usually humans can’t enter it, and it takes years of training for Shinigami to access it. Not to mention it seems that you have two spirits in there instead of just one,” he muses.

“So I’m a freak,” Ichigo sighs bitterly.

“Nonsense, it’s a good thing,” Urahara chides, ruffling Ichigo’s hair. “Do you remember what you spoke with them about?”

“Well, the white dude called me ‘King’ and told me to call him ‘Hakuten.’ The old man wouldn’t tell me his name, so I’m just calling him ‘Ossan,’” Ichigo grumbles, thinking back on the weird cryptic bullshit that the strange man had spouted about not being able to hear him. "I mentioned the battle while Hakuten was putting me to sleep, and he said something about 'taking care of it this time.' I guess that was him taking control of my body?"

“Hmm,” the blonde hums. “Fascinating. I’d love to know more about it later. But for now, there’s something I would like to give to you.” He digs into one of his pockets and produces a large, shiny marble swirling with a myriad of colors. It’s beautiful to look at, but Ichigo can sense something unusual about it, and it’s making all his senses go haywire.

“What… is that?” he chokes out, feeling on edge.

Urahara looks unusually sad when he looks down at the object in question. “My greatest creation and my biggest regret: the Hougyoku,” he replies softly. “It was meant to break the boundaries between Shinigami and Hollows. Perhaps it will help you with the spirits in your soulscape.”

Ichigo looks at him, frowning. The emotion in the shopkeeper’s voice is genuine, and yet—“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he points out.

The shopkeeper takes Ichigo’s hand and drops the gem on his open palm. “Well, there _is_ a reason why I’m living in exile,” he says wryly, curling Ichigo’s fingers over the object. The Hougyoku feels rather warm to the touch, rather than cool like Ichigo was expecting. “Do me a favor and keep that safe for me, will you?”

Urahara doesn’t elaborate on this ‘reason why,’ so Ichigo supposes it must still be quite a sore subject for him. He knows all about what it’s like to have something happen in your past that you don’t want to talk about, so he doesn’t ask. Just squirrels the little jewel away into one of his pockets, making a note to find a safer way to carry it around later.

“Alright,” he agrees. “Is that all?”

“Yes, you’re free to go,” the shopkeeper waves towards the doors. “Have a good night, Kurosaki-san.”

“Night, Geta-boushi.” Ichigo turns around and walks away, thinking of what to tell his friends and family if they happen to see the item Urahara had given him for safe-keeping. With his back to the former Shinigami Captain, he misses the way Urahara flips his fan open in front of his face, hiding a smirk from view.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment before you go~


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